


She Who Walks in the Sea

by hoopshoney



Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: F/M, if people can run around in cat suits then sirens or mermaids can exist right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-02 01:33:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16295753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoopshoney/pseuds/hoopshoney
Summary: HxH, If you’re still brainstorming on or looking at ideas/requests for your next Erik fic, I’m interested in seeing an AU-like series where the Original Black Female Character is a mermaid or a mutant with aquatic powers and Erik is maybe a rebellious/rogue sailor or pirate. What do you say/think?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Someone sent me this ask and i just…SPIRALED! I don’t know where this is going or even if there is gonna be a part two but this was so fun to write. Please drop back in my ask box anon so I can know if this meets your expectations or if you have any other ideas. Also I am so down for anyone calling me ‘HxH’–that is so cute!

So much time spent in the sea and yet Asherah still found amusement in the actions of the water nymphs. Lowly creatures, their petty actions and penchants for flights of fancy provided her with hours of entertainment.

She watches as they swim around the young merman, their currents swirling around him as the bubbles from their giggles drift up and out of view. The awe on the young man’s face as he follows their twisting bodies a clear sign of his interest.

She could hear their voices from where she watched, chattering and high in the annoying way that nymph voices always are.

Asherah very rarely drifted away from her home, easily annoyed by eons of the same going ons in the oceans. But recently there has been a restlessness inside her, her body resonating with a constant hum, a swift current of feelings dancing over her skin. It had caused her to venture from her usual place and into a spot where she could observe the comings and goings of the creatures of the sea.

As she watched the creatures move amongst each other, she wondered if they felt it. The feeling that had been following her constantly. This shift. This hum. This sign that something was coming.

Probably not, they were all too engaged in the petty goings on of the oceans to pay attention.

They didn’t even notice her presence. Too content within their safe little bubbles to remember the danger that lurks in the ocean. The realities of what they should fear had become stories, fables, and then fairytales as time went on. She had become a thing of stories, fables, and then fairytales even amongst her own people. No matter. Asherah was nothing if not patient. 

Bored, with watching the nymphs toy with the poor mermaid below, she takes her leave allowing herself to float back the way she came, her body gliding effortlessly through the water.

Arriving back at the place she called her own, she emerges from the shallow pool in the center, sweeping the tangled mass of curly brown hair from her face as she looks around.

Emerging from the water into the open air of the cave she walks up the shore, the water falling from her smooth brown skin deliberately. The ocean tugging it back into the water rendering her completely dry.

Her lips curve into a dry smile as she feels the whispers of her home talking to her, warning her.

“Hali,” her voice is like the sound of shifting waters when she speaks, “It’s been so long, old friend. Though I confess I would have preferred you announced your visit.”

Looking over her shoulder at the unannounced guest, her eyes are steel, a sharp contrast to the soft smile she wears. The bright golden color of them shining in the shadows that have covered her face.

“I did not know if I would be welcome,” His voice is deep, the sound of the ocean present within his just as it is in hers, “As you said, we are OLD friends.”

She takes in the man floating in one of the other many shallow pools throughout her home. With skin like that of a Maori chief and hair cut short to his scalp, in a style very unpopular to sea creatures, he cut a striking figure in her home. Though she couldn’t ignore that troubling detail. Why was he in her home?

Tilting her head, she watches him closely, the smile slipping off her face as she remembers their history together. “I wouldn’t dare turn away one such as me. After all, Hali, there are so very few of us.”

Ignoring the narrowing of his eyes at the dig in his words Asherah continues speaking, “Well come on, what brings you here after all this time?”

She walks around the pool he’s floating in, not bothering to cover her nakedness. She sees his eyes drift to her legs, narrowing before drifting back to her face. The glance alone lets her know he’s not here to make amends. After all, Hali had been one of the first to turn against her when her true nature was revealed.

“The tribunal has sent me here,” though his voice rings with shallow authority she can hear the doubt underneath it.

Sliding gracefully to the floor, she lies on her side, head propped up by her hand as she looks curiously at Hali. “Now what could the tribunal possibly want with me?”

“There have been rumblings, Asherah–”

“–rumblings?”

“Yes, rumblings!” his voice is sharp when he speaks, the sound much like waves against rocks, “There is…an energy in the ocean. The lower creatures cannot feel it, but we can,Ashera.” His tail moves in agitation throughout the water, the green color of it standing out as it swipes sharply.

Her hand, which had been sliding lazily through the water comes to a stop as she looks up at him, “And you think it is my doing?” Her voice is incredulous when she speaks.

“The tribunal is prepared to show a full sign of force should you be plotting something,”Hali’s voice is firm when he speaks, “We will not show you mercy.”

Mercy. They would not show HER mercy. Asherah scoffs, pushing herself upright before sliding herself in the pool with Hali. The water senses her, changing to suit her emotions. The pool no longer placid but churning with a harsh current as she stands in front of her former companion.

“Show ME mercy!” her voice echoes the incredulousness of her thoughts before, “When has you precious tribunal EVER shown me mercy!” The churning increases, the two of them like posts within the whirlpool swirling around them.

“Asherah–”

“Maybe they showed me mercy when they kept my true nature from me. Subjecting me to the pain that came at stemming my gifts. Maybe they showed me mercy when they cast me out!”

The other pools around them came to life, the same whirlpools rolling within them.

“If I am to believe that you not plotting against us–” his voice is hesitant when he speaks, as if he has just became aware of her power.

Asherah lets a laugh escape her, her voice steely and low as she calms the waters around her, “I do not NEED you to believe anything.” Giving her his back, she turns away, making her way out of the water once again.

“I think it’s time for you to leave Hali,” She says, a wave of her hands sending the whirlpool to swirl around him, tugging him slowly under the current, “I only hope that when we meet again I will show you mercy.”  
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Attempting to calm herself from her impromptu meeting earlier, Asherah was spending her time digging through the treasure she had acquired throughout her lifetime. Though the consensus among her kind was that it was largely useless, she liked the sparkle of the items and often took to draping the jewelry around herself to cheer herself up.

Clothed in nothing but a crown and strings and strings of lost jewelry of all kinds, she dropped the carved broach in her hand with a gasp.

Something was happening. The restless feeling that she and the others of her kind had felt had hit her full force. Using her powers to tune into the entirety of the ocean around her she notes a disruption in the water. Something powerful and most likely responsible for the feelings coursing through her.

But the power was fading. And fading fast.

Tossing the jewelry off her body as quickly as she can, Asherah jumps into the closest pool swimming quickly to the place she sensed.

Reaching her destination, she realizes the ocean around her is cast in shadow. Looking up, she sees the bottoms of one or two boats and platforms above her. Connecting with the currents around her she notes, that none of these boats are responsible for the raised skin on her arm.

No whatever it is, its already in the water.

Swirling around quickly, the water moving naturally around her she uses her eyes to scan the area, vision alighting on a slowly sinking box drifting to the bottom of the sea.

Moving closer she runs her hand across the box, noting the intricate patterns as well the golden glow illuminating from the lines carved into it. She didn’t know what it was or what was inside it. But she knew it was important and powerful. She could feel a hum of energy coming from it as if calling her home.. Mesmerized by the feeling, she moves to find an opening when the ocean around her shifts.

The others had arrived and it wouldn’t be long before they found her.

Not willing to part with her mysterious box or have a confrontation with the others like her, Asherah swims away quickly. Using her ability to control the currents she pushes the box along beside her quickly arriving at her home in no time, pushing the box up and onto the shore with the currents as she pops out beside it.

Calling silently to the sea creatures that roam near her home, she sends them a message to guard her and warn her of any danger.

Kneeling beside the box, she notes the gold glow again, the color almost mimicking the color of her eyes. The patterns on the box are unfamiliar to her but they are beautiful. Perhaps a language or a pattern denoting status, she thinks.

She moves her hand around, searching for a latch or opening that will allow her to open the box but it seems seamlessly made, almost as if its one piece of wood.

Not willing to give up so easy, she pulls water from the pond nearest to her gathering a thick stream above her and channeling both the power in her and the power in the ocean before sending it crashing at the box below her.

No match for the power of the sea flowing through her, the wood splinters into many pieces revealing the treasure it held inside.

It was…a man. Placed inside with his arms crossed, he was dressed finely, the robes covering his body stitched with the same symbols around the box. He was beautiful, Asherah thought, fiercely so. And though he wasn’t breathing, as she had learned was a necessity for humans, there was still an energy emanating from his body. Something powerful and terrible but begging to be let out.

A small smile graces Asherah’s face as she lets her hand trace his features. Yes. Yes, she’d be the one to help him let it out.

Pressing her other hand to his chest, her eyes sharpen the gold of them swirling like the ocean as she begins to sing.

Though lyric-less- the harmony she lets out echoes throughout the entire cavern. Had anyone else been present within the room they would have hastened to her side. Fought to be there. Maimed to be there. Died to be there. Or even more fought through death to be beside her.

Like he did.

He wakes violently a shuddering gasp echoing throughout the chamber as his eyes open wide, immediately connecting with hers.

Ending her song, she strokes her hand around his jawline in an attempt to keep him calm, through the efforts seem for naught as his breath is still hard and his eyes are still frantic.

He jerks his head away from her hand, his hand coming up quickly to wrap around her throat. His voice is deep and rough when he speaks, as if he has not used it in some time, “What the fuck is goin’ on?”

Amused by the hand exerting what she is sure is a significant amount of ‘human; pressure on her throat, she gently removes it, watching his eyes widen in shock as she does it with little effort.

“Well now, how am I supposed to answer that with your hand around my throat?” her voice is light and amused when she speaks, echoing in his mind reminding him of the song that had called to him.

Letting his hand go, she stands up grabbing a netted robe to wrap around herself, as she sits on the chaise a few feet away from him.

Standing as she moves away, his movements are aggressive as he stalks towards her, “Where am I? Who the fuck are you?!”

Aggressive this one, she think as she watches him stalk towards her, but a beautiful specimen or a human male.

Infusing her voice with the same melody from her song, she decides to slake her own curiosity before addressing his, “What’s your name?” Her voice is light and curious, though the melody makes it so he can’t refuse. 

She seems him try to resist, his mouth opening and closing before the answer is almost pulled out of him. He speaks through gritted teeth, “Erik.”

Stretching so she’s lying on her back, she picks up her abandoned jewelry from before frowning slightly at his answer, “Your real name?”

Called by the sound in her voice, he reluctantly takes a step closer his knees hitting the edge of the chaise as his answer flies out of his mouth without his consent, “N’jadaka.”

Looking up at him, her eyes swirl golden again, the weight of her gaze on his dragging him roughly to his knees before her. He doesn’t understand why his body is out of his control but he hates her for it. This beautiful woman, goddess maybe, who seems to have some measure of authority over him. Who sung a song that dragged him out of the darkness he was in. He was unsure if he should thank her or be frightened by her.

She reaches her hands out to him, draping him in the jewels scattered around her as if he’s her own personal plaything. Grabbing his face in her hands, she strokes his beard lightly before lying his head on top her lap.

He doesn’t resist. Whether friend or foe, this woman has a power over him that he’s never experienced before and resisting seems like too much effort after fighting his way out of the darkness he was just in.

Asherah hums as she runs her fingers over the dreads on his head, though not imbued with any of her magic, it still manages to be just as soothing, his body relaxing against her.

“Are you tired, N’jadaka?” her voice is concerned, a combination of that of a mother, a friend, and a lover.

Erik feels like a child as a tear runs down his face, though he couldn’t have stopped it if he tired., Her hand dips down to wipe it away bringing her fingers to her mouth she tastes the saltiness of his tears. He’s so sad.

His hands are clenched in the robe around her, hands opening and closing compulsively as he ignores her question. Instead he responds with one of his own, one he needs answered, “Am I–am I dead?”

He doesn’t look up when he asks this, almost as if he’s afraid to know the answer.

Asherah cups his chin in her hand, forcing him to look up and into her unearthly eyes. A sweet smile appears on her face, though it is tinged with something more.

“Oh sweetheart—this, this is not death. This is so much more.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is very short but I really didn’t plan for a part 2. This is for the fans who really wanted this fic. I really love this chapter and I really love Asherah.

Erik was awoken by the sound of water against rock, his memories of the previous night returning with each wash of sound. Sitting up abruptly, he looks around the cavern noticing no sign of the woman who had awoken him.

Walking around the cavernous space he notes all the treasures beautifully organized within. Shit he would have killed to sell on the black market when he did that sort of thing. Taking the opportunity, he looks around for any weapon he can. He’s not sure if the woman with the intoxicating voice is a enemy of not but he’s damn sure not gonna take that chance. Looking through the chests nearest him, he finds a jeweled dagger, tossing it in his hand to test the weight and balance.

He hears a disturbance and the water, causing him to look around quickly cataloging possible defensive positions before moving quickly to a secure position in the cavern.

Erik watches her leave the water, the sight threatening to make him lose his focus. Shaking his head, he tries to look at her clinically, distract himself from the intoxicating sight in front of him. She was tall-he noticed that on her first step out the water. Her skins was a beautiful dark brown color, though there was something that distinguished it from just being brown. It almost seemed like there was something contained underneath it, a light source, a reflection of the sun, seeping out creating an aura around her. Her hair long, black and tangled, somehow absorbed and expelled the water soaked into it.

She fully exited the shallow pool now, prompting him to strike. Boldly he emerges from position behind her, the dagger up and at her throat faster than she can gasp.

Speaking into her ear, he puts all his authority into his voice “Who are you? And what am I doing here? Speak before I split your fucking throat. ”

She moves quicker than he can even see. One minute he’s behind her and the next he’s on his back in the bed he previously occupied Asherah hovering above him, golden eyes swirling.

“You question and threaten me me! Me, who has brought you back from the darkness! Me, who would lift you up above your petty human squabbles!” Asherah’s voice was a force throughout the cave walls, reaching every crevice within.

Erik has to suppress the shiver that runs through him, remembering that this woman is a goddess of sort in her own right. However, he’s never been one to not speak his mind, and he’s not going to start now.

“I’m not tryna’ spend my life hiding in a cave,” his voice is almost petulant, a grumble more suited for a child than a man of his stature.

The smile on her face is quick and large. A complete 180 from the anger she had just shown. Her giggle that came out was that of a young girl and it mostly shocks him out of his slight fear from before. Bouncing so that she’s sitting beside him, she leans over picking a smaller chest of jewels off the ground sorting through them as she responds.

“Oh sweetie, we’re not hiding. We’re preparing. There’s a difference.”

Her good humor clearly back with a vengeance she begins to drape him with the jewels around her, giggles echoing around her as she sits a tiara on his head.

Though he doesn’t much feel like being a mannequin in dress up, Erik has enough of a sense of self preservation. So he allows her to continue, remembering her quick but powerful anger from before.

“Beside’s once you help me destroy everyone in my family, I’ll give you all the power to destroy yours,” her voice has a sing song quality to it, as if she’s not talking about the murder of earth bound dynasties and powerful ocean beings. 

Erik is not shaken easily but something about her easy recline and breezy attitude reminds him of something unsettling. As if she’s too old to be worried about trivial problems like the loss of a few lives. As he thinks, her hands move down his face tracing his feature lovingly.

“You’re unbearably pretty, it’s a little bit heartbreaking really,” her voice has a dream like quality to it and the feeling that appeared when she sung to him the other days starts to resonate within in.

Not wanting to fall back into that fugue he had been in before, he grabs her wrists, quickly, unthinkingly. Asherah looks him in the eyes, gold irises glowing as she tilts her head as if she knows the feelings he’s trying to avoid. But she allows it and Erik feels the tightness, the panic, in his chest release.

Trying to redirect the conversation again he asks her why she wants to kill her family. She stands abruptly at the question, her eyes hard although her voice conveys nonchalance.

“Oh you know, the typical story. Girl is abandoned by family. Girl is adopted. Girl has powers that others are afraid of. Girl’s powers are bound. Girl plots to kill her family to release the bind. Same old same really,” her dress, a concoction made of something that seems lighter than silk, twirls around her as she turns to face him again, “Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about.”

Erik shakes his head at her comment, “I don’t understand how I can help you,ma. Not really up for fighting mystical beings.”

Reaching into one of the shallow pools around her, quick as lighting Asherah pulls out a large fish, “I don’t need you to fight, silly. I just need you to make a itsy bitsy sacrifice and everything will be right in the ocean..or world..or whatever we decide to to take over.”

Already skeptical at her simple explanation, Erik stands going to hover above her as she makes kissy faces at the flopping, dying fish in her hands.

“Sacrifice?”

Quickly snapping the vertebrae of the creature in her hands, she looks up at him innocently, “You’ve already died once, young one. What’s one more time?”

Erik lets out the laughter that builds up in him. Of course. Of FUCKING course! Brought back alive just to be sacrificed again. But he damn sure won’t go without a fight.

Asherah doesn’t seem surprised at his laughter, though he’s sure with her moodswings she’s used to experiencing the variety of the human emotions quickly.

Erik’s voice is strong when he responds, “Fuck that! I’m not dying for a cause I don’t know, when I have a cause of my own.”

Throwing the fish on the fire, blazing in the corner of the room, she looks at him and pouts. Looking a little lost by the fact that he would deny her, she fists her dress in her hands, heedless of the blood stains from the fish she had gutted marring the fabric.

“I promise I’ll bring you back,” a whine is evident in her voice.

He clenches and unclenches his fist, looking down at them when he notices she has covered them with her own. The blood on her hands, becomes the blood on his.

“Why me?”

Shocked by the question, she turns him to face the cracked and broken mirror she had propped against one wall. Standing behind him Asherah runs her hands up his shoulders feeling the strength within his limbs.

“Why you, Njadaka?” her voice comes out with the remnants of her song, weaving its way around his body and up into his mind, “ You don’t even know your own potential. You have the blood of kings running through your veins. Kings not just of now, but blood that runs back to the cradle of civilization. If your Africa is where humanity was birthed, what does that say of the descendants of that bloodline. You were build from the blood of Goddesses, N’jadaka. And Goddess blood is infinitely stronger than that of Gods.”

Her hands make their way through his dreads. His head tilts backs, enjoying the sensation of her fingers through his hair.

“I want this curse undone, N’jadaka. Only power can undo it. And power is something you have.”

Erik finds the strength to break from her hold, turning around in her arms so that he’s facing her. Always one to take risks, he sets his hands on her hips pulling them closer to his until the connect. The heat emanating from them creating a hazy, lazy type of feeling around them.

His voice, when he speaks, is gruff, “I lost that power.”

Rising to her toes, Asherah brushes her lips across his gently. Their lips barely touch, a butterfly gossamer touch of feeling. He’s not sure if it’s real, but he’s sure the sensation is better than anything he’s ever experiences.

“You could never lose that power. They even buried you like a king.”

“They buried me cause they want me to be forgotten.”

Pulling him closer, giving him no doubt that this is real, she speaks one last time before they get lost within each other, “You won’t be forgotten. Let me make you the stuff of legends.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this at 9am and goddamn it felt good. 
> 
> Also in some ways this was inspired by @muse-of-mbaku , who at one point wrote a whole one shot with no dialogue which made me want to try. 
> 
> Please Review. This is probably one of the most aesthetic and feeling based things I’ve ever written and I definitely want to discuss if some of the feelings I want to conveyed came across.

Asherah stood barefoot at the edge of the sea and the beginning of the shore. Water lapped roughly at her legs, as the tide pushed and pulled around her. She sighed in contentment, she had never really felt at peace.

Until now.

Now with the saltiness of the world’s sea coating her and the grittiness of the earth’s sand sticking to her like it was their sole goal to embed themselves in her skin, Asherah was happy.

The sun had never felt so bright on her skin, she would swear it to anyone who would listen. The sea had never responded to her so well before, its movements not moving in time with her heartbeat, but instead rushing at the same pace as her blood through her body.

Her body was the earth, born of clay and sand and the flecks of this world that had drifted down to space. She was somehow stardust and the earth’s core all at once. Her blood was the ocean, a slow moving rush of heat moving carefully throughout her and the world, lest she over take herself and the land.

Her sigh turned into a hum as she opened her eyes and took in the feeling of finally being on land. Of finally feeling both sides of herself connected.

And it was all because of him.

N’jadaka.

Her eyes immediately sought him out, skipping over the other bodies on the beach. There he was, in all his glory. Her King.

_No no,_ her mind corrected, _A King_. It would be foolish to think a man could ever rule over her. He was beautiful as he moved on the beach. Too graceful for a man his size, the brute strength he exuded a calling card for her.

She was not deterred by the blood that splattered his body, as it mimicked the blood on her. It covered him in some sort of grim pattern. Mixing with the bumps on his skin to create some sort of macabre work of art. Held tilting, she looked at him as he stamped out anyone else who dared oppose them, his sword dripping with blood as he slashed out to someone in front of them, abandoning it inside them as he turn to the next person using the brutal strength of his fists to subdue them.

She wonders why they keep trying. Don’t they see his strength like she does. Don’t they see that from the moment she had found him this was destined to happen. They were all weak compared to them.

Her people feared that which they didn’t know. Keeping to the seas to avoid the weak humans. Content in their little kingdom, as if they didn’t realized the point of a kingdom was to rule all others.

His people feared that which they did know. Past history keeping them frozen, out of fear of past atrocities. They were afraid to act to move, only pushing in little increments as not to incite panic.

But they would save them. Free them from that paralyzing fear. Together. And if blood had to run, so be it. It would water the earth and color the sea and they would be happier for it.

The Goddesses and Gods had promised them both retribution and didn’t they see that this was them keeping their promise.

They had gifted them both, him the land and her the sea. All they had to do was take it.

Stepping over the bodies littering the beach she makes her way towards him, her dagger moving as fast as his. Faster even. As she picks off the rest of the stragglers that oppose them. There aren’t many.

Breathing heavy, he looks up as she makes her way towards him, a manic grin is stretched across his face. His teeth covered with blood, his or his enemies, she doesn’t know.

Dropping the limp body in his hands, he opens his arms. Beckoning her towards her, the grin still present on his face, a bloodied dagger still in one hand.

Not hesitating, she lets out a girlish squeal of excitement before jumping into his arms. The blood on her body mixing with the blood on his, before she grabs him for a kiss. They ignore the groans of the dying and the sobs of those mourning loved ones.

_Don’t they know this is a time of excitement,_ she thinks, her bloodied hands gripping his hair tightly as he bites her bottom lip roughly. His hands squeezing her too him as if he can meld them together right then and there on a beach that smelled of death and decay and sorrow.

The dagger in his hands manages to pull him away before anything else, as he accidentally nicks hisself trying to get closer to her. Hissing softly at the pain, he drops Asherah to her feet, her face set into an expression of concern as she looks at the shallow cut on his finger. Pouting for a second , she doesn’t hesitate to lift his finger to her mouth licking the blood off quickly before giving it a childish kiss with a slight smile.

He can’t resist the urge to smile back, this feeling he felt with her was better than anything he ever felt before. Fighting with her, being with her, _conquering_ with her. It felt better than anything he had ever felt alone. And now he would never be alone.

He had taken back his people. Taken them back so that they could be free like he never was in his past life. Free like he was now with all the power she had opened for him.

Asherah had given him everything she promised and more. He had his people now and he would help them and love them. But first he would save them.

He could feel the Wakandan sun on his back, drying the blood that had settled there. He had never felt so warm, the rays making his blood feel warm like ichor. He was N’jadaka.

Finally. The name hadn’t felt right in a long time. They one connection to it having died a warm summer night as the echoes of basketballs and children shouting drifted in the wind.

Then he had to hide it. Bury N’jadaka, in a place that only he could access. Taking on a new name till her could get back to the old.

_Embrace Erik Stevens. You can be Erik Stevens. You are Erik Stevens._

If you tell yourself something enough you start to believe it. And so he did. Being Erik Stevens for his entire life. Only daring to breathe N’jadaka on the darkest nights at the latest time, lest someone mistake the wistfulness in his voice for weakness.

Then _they_ named him. Gave him a name that described the death and chaos he left in his wake like it was some sort of game. Killmonger. Didn’t they realize he had a purpose, that he let blood water the earth for a reason. That in some ways he was the one making the sacrifices. Chipping off pieces of his soul person by person, drop by drop of blood. For them. For Wakanda. So that he could show them he was N’jadaka.

And when he did, when he finally pulled the name that was truly his from the brightest, least touched corner of his soul, they denied him. Pulling up his other names, his other lives, as evidence of his blasphemy. Didn’t they know. Didn’t they understand that he had to bury himself, bury N’jadaka, pull out those other versions of himself to get to them. He found his anger growing. Why didn’t they understand the sacrifices _he_ had made?

Asherah understood. She made his name feel right. N’jadaka was the name of a prince–no, the name of a king and she had made it so.

_Together_ they had taken back the name the world had made him hide.

Grasping her hand is his, they begin walking along the beach, the crush of bodies underneath their soles forgotten as they walk in bliss. The sun ,drying the blood on their bodies and warming the smell of corpses, kisses both of their skin, turning them golden.

_This must be what love feels like_ , they both think.


End file.
